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I believe you got an old woman somewhere, Shatov; an old woman is all very well, but don't you, her tender husband, desert her; sit beside her, you may be of use; Marya Ignatyevna won't drive you away, I fancy.... There, there, I was only laughing." At the gate, to which Shatov accompanied her, she added to him alone.

But suddenly something happened which was very annoying and unpleasant for every one in the house, and completely upset Fyodor Pavlovitch’s equanimity at once. Smerdyakov went to the cellar for something and fell down from the top of the steps. Fortunately, Marfa Ignatyevna was in the yard and heard him in time.

She fell asleep but still kept his hand in hers; she waked up frequently, looked at him, as though afraid he would go away, and dropped asleep again. Kirillov sent an old woman "to congratulate them," as well as some hot tea, some freshly cooked cutlets, and some broth and white bread for Marya Ignatyevna.

It was remarkable how little they spoke to one another in the course of their lives, and only of the most necessary daily affairs. The grave and dignified Grigory thought over all his cares and duties alone, so that Marfa Ignatyevna had long grown used to knowing that he did not need her advice. She felt that her husband respected her silence, and took it as a sign of her good sense.

They found him at the bottom of the cellar steps, writhing in convulsions and foaming at the mouth. It was thought at first that he must have broken somethingan arm or a legand hurt himself, butGod had preserved him,” as Marfa Ignatyevna expressed itnothing of the kind had happened. But it was difficult to get him out of the cellar. They asked the neighbors to help and managed it somehow.

To her master’s bitter, though deserved, reproaches, Marfa Ignatyevna replied that the fowl was a very old one to begin with, and that she had never been trained as a cook. In the evening there was another trouble in store for Fyodor Pavlovitch; he was informed that Grigory, who had not been well for the last three days, was completely laid up by his lumbago.

It was about nine o’clock when Marfa Ignatyevna came in with her usual inquiry, “Where will your honor take your tea, in your own room or downstairs?” He looked almost cheerful, but there was about him, about his words and gestures, something hurried and scattered.

Then Fyodor Pavlovitch had one misfortune after another to put up with that day. Marfa Ignatyevna cooked the dinner, and the soup, compared with Smerdyakov’s, wasno better than dish-water,” and the fowl was so dried up that it was impossible to masticate it.

Suddenly a hare springing from somewhere would dart over the snowdrift... His grandfather could not help shouting: "Catch it, catch it, catch it! Ah, short-tailed devil!" When the tree was down, his grandfather dragged it to the master's house, and there they set about decorating it. The young lady, Olga Ignatyevna, Vanka's great friend, busied herself most about it.

And as for Grigory Vassilyevitch hearing him and not admitting him, he has been ill ever since yesterday, and Marfa Ignatyevna intends to give him medicine to-morrow. They’ve just arranged it. It’s a very strange remedy of hers. Marfa Ignatyevna knows of a preparation and always keeps it. It’s a strong thing made from some herb.